


Stay

by radioshack84



Category: Magnum P.I. (TV 2018)
Genre: Angst with a Happy Ending, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Episode: s02e20 A Leopard on the Prowl, F/M, Friendship, Hurt/Comfort, Juliet Higgins Whump, Pre-Relationship, Thomas Sullivan Magnum IV Whump
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-11
Updated: 2020-12-11
Packaged: 2021-03-10 23:01:54
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 8,657
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28005090
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/radioshack84/pseuds/radioshack84
Summary: Two friends, who aren't quite ready for goodbye.  (Missing scenes / extended ending for 2x20 - A Leopard on the Prowl.)
Relationships: Juliet Higgins & Thomas Sullivan Magnum IV, Juliet Higgins/Thomas Sullivan Magnum IV
Comments: 17
Kudos: 95





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer: I don't own Magnum, PI. Written for enjoyment, not money.

“Magnum,” Higgins said for the third time, trying to get her partner’s -- _former_ partner’s -- attention. They were sitting in his kitchen, holding open bottles of beer that they weren’t drinking from. Katsumoto and the other HPD officers had departed some time ago with Icepick in custody, and after their collective attempts at consoling Rick had fallen flat, TC had offered to drive him home. Kumu had followed a short time later, leaving her and Magnum alone and at the mercy of an awkward silence.

Higgins had decided to relieve that silence by saying good night at about the same time that Magnum had retrieved the beers from the fridge, so she’d nearly declined when he’d set one of the bottles in front of her and then dropped somewhat too heavily into the next chair, twisting off the top of his own. She still had a few things to take care of before leaving in the morning, they were both worn out after the day’s events, and alcohol often served to make the awkward more awkward, but she couldn’t think of anything worse in that moment than spending her last night in Hawaii -- _their_ last night -- in the empty main house, alone. So she’d nodded her thanks, opened her beer, and mostly stared at it while the lonely feeling she’d stuck around to avoid somehow settled in anyway. Before she could lend much consideration to the growing ache of emptiness in her chest, though, Magnum’s chin slipped from where it had been braced against his right hand and she heard his breath hitch as he caught himself on the edge of the counter with his left. It didn’t entirely slow his momentum, however, and he listed forward a little more, a small groan escaping him.

“Thomas?” she said, this time with concern, and when he didn’t straighten as several seconds ticked by, she pushed her chair back, going to him. “What’s wrong?” she asked, resting her hand gently on his back.

“Remember the part where I fought a guy on top of a speeding truck today?” He lifted his head a fraction and tried for his usual grin, but it didn’t have a hope of reaching past the pain that was etched in his every feature. Higgins hadn’t seen him so pale since he’d been shot and tossed from a different speeding truck by Hannah. 

Brushing off that unwelcome memory, she told him, “I remember the part where you declined to be examined by the paramedics at the scene, even whilst bleeding from that gash over your eye. How badly are you hurt?”

He lifted one shoulder in a shrug and promptly winced. “I honestly can’t tell one ache from another at this point. Beer was a bad idea, though,” he muttered, looking a little queasy as he nudged the barely-sipped beverage further away from him with his fingertips before carefully folding his arm across his ribs.

Juliet frowned, and not because of the slight tinge of blood that now colored the counter in the track of the beer’s condensation. The fingers of his left hand were bruised and swollen (and evidently abraded) where Adrian Reese had ground his boot onto them, but she was far more worried about the injuries she couldn’t see. It was apparent that Magnum was in considerable pain, and his condition wasn’t improving if the sweat dampening his shirt and beading along the back of his neck was any indication. “I assume all suggestions that you see a doctor will be summarily ignored?”

He shook his head. “I just need some sleep, Higgy.”

“And I _just_ need an extension to my visa,” she said dryly, instantly regretting the comment when his shoulders slumped further. Two years and she was still complete rubbish at this friend thing. It was a wonder Magnum and the others put up with her at all. Not that they would have to for much longer…

She shook herself. _This_ , right now, was not about her. It was about making sure that Magnum was okay, and he very clearly wasn’t. His chin had found its way back to his palm and his eyes had slipped closed. He looked miserable, and in danger of toppling over at the slightest outside force, and while admittedly those factors made it sound like a very bad idea she asked, “Do you think you can stand?”

“I can’t sleep standing up,” he mumbled.

“You can’t sleep here, either,” Juliet answered patiently. Magnum didn’t respond, so she took his left wrist and carefully eased his arm away from his body to loop it across her shoulders, which provoked a grunt of protest.

“Higgins…”

“C’mon, you need to get cleaned up.”

At first it seemed like he might not move, but after several seconds he finally relented and inched his chair backward and himself forward. She wrapped an arm around his waist and very slowly helped him up. His breath hitched again as he took his first step away from the counter and he held tight to her, limping heavily as she guided him toward his bedroom. Once there, he paused as if unsure which direction to go, and Higgins was certain that if she hadn’t been with him he’d have simply face-planted on his bed, or more likely the floor given his present state. 

_Who was going to look after him the next time he was injured during an investigation?_

The sudden notion tore at her in a way she couldn’t explain, despite its being utterly ridiculous. It wasn’t as though _she_ was in the habit of caring for her partner’s injuries. Quite the opposite -- usually she was in the habit of berating him for the impulsiveness that led to his being in danger in the first place. But, no matter how much evidence existed to the contrary, Magnum was an adult and was capable of taking care of himself. He’d lived the vast majority of his life without her assistance, and he would still have Rick, TC, and Kumu to render aid in her absence should the need arise. For _tonight_ , though, just for tonight, he had her, too. She allowed herself to take a small amount of comfort in that as she gently steered him to the bathroom and eased him onto the bench that was just inside the door.

“Would you --?” he asked wearily, waving a hand toward the other room.

“Of course. The chair is the clean pile, if I remember your deplorable laundry methods correctly?”

“Since when is efficiency deplorable? Not folding saves time,” he argued predictably, just a hint of a smile on his lips as he leaned his head back against the wall.

Higgins rolled her eyes, returning the smile as she went to find him something to wear. He’d slipped off his shoes by the time she came back and was fumbling awkwardly with the buttons of his shirt with his right hand. His left was back to bracing his ribs. “Will you manage all right?” she asked seriously, gesturing to the shower. 

“I’ll be fine. Thanks, Higgy.”

She nodded. “I’ll be just out here, then.”

Thomas watched her go and blamed his exhaustion and aching head that her words seemed to echo, turning over and over in his mind like in a clothes dryer, twisting up as they crashed back down on him. Yes, he’d manage. He’d be just fine without her, and she’d be just out there...just across the pond...just out of reach.

His eyes watered as he lurched to his feet, and it was definitely because being upright made his ribs feel like tiny chisels were splitting them apart and _not_ because the country he’d endured prison and torture to protect had now decided to take away one of his ohana on what amounted to a technicality.

Yeah, he was being dramatic. He didn’t care.

Turning on the shower, Magnum tossed his shirt on the floor and gingerly slid his jeans down, gasping as the clammy material hesitated over his left thigh and knee. Both were already a deep shade of purple. He remembered taking a hard hit from Reese’s knee, but it hadn’t seemed that bad at the time. Now, bad didn’t even start.

Eyes squeezed shut, he freed himself from the offending denim and eased under the spray, mentally cursing Adrian Reese, Immigration Services, incompetent immigration lawyers, the Taliban, Nuzo’s killers, Icepick, and, finally, no one at all. His last traces of energy washed away with the sweat and dried blood, leaving behind a body pulsing with pain and shaking with fatigue. It was all he could do to wrap a towel around himself and limp back to the bench where his clothes were. Higgins had brought him a t-shirt, but the shorts proved to be enough of a challenge. Propped unsteadily against the sink, it took him four tries to get them on and in the process he accidentally knocked his ring off of the ledge where he’d left it. He sighed wearily as he watched it clatter across the floor and debated for a full ten seconds before he slowly stooped to pick it up.

Magnum didn’t remember falling. One minute he was inching downward, reaching for the ring, and the next he was on the floor, knives stabbing at his chest while his quad felt like it was being ripped in two. His hands automatically clamped around his thigh, which only made things worse, because the distance necessary to reach it was just further than his leg wanted to move and the distance he bent to compensate stole his breath as his ribs didn’t want him moving _at all_.

He found he had no choice but to listen to them as the pain pressed in on him viciously from all sides. He was light-headed and nauseous, and it occurred to him that he probably needed help. Higgins would be close by, but she wasn’t wrong that he needed to be more self-reliant if he was going to make a go of things while she was away, and since she was leaving in just a few hours he figured it was time for him to start.

The trouble was, he didn’t think he knew how. Relying on her in the first place had been mostly accidental on his part, but by design on Robin's. One didn’t become a renowned author by not knowing his subject matter, and by the time Magnum had been invited to stay in his guest house, Robin had known him inside and out, in some ways even better than TC, Rick, and Nuzo. The writer had understood his need for time and space to fully recover from his ordeal in Afghanistan, but he’d also recognized that complete free rein would be a step too far. Higgins had already been under Robin’s employ, but she’d served a second purpose where Magnum was concerned, providing just the amount of structure and authority he’d needed to re-integrate, as well as a steady presence and sparring partner to keep him connected whenever he’d started to drift.

Behind him, the shower made a hissing sound, followed by a gurgling clang. It was the same noise it made every morning -- possibly the one flaw of the entire estate -- but this time it made him jump, and for half a second he was surrounded by scorpions and dripping water in a dark hole. He blinked and the bathroom rematerialized. 

Case in point. Being in pain and being alone could drop him back in that prison camp quicker than anything else, and he was suddenly staring down a _lot_ more alone time than he was used to. An empty Nest, as it were. He literally didn’t know Hawaii without Higgins. Robin had seen to that. What Magnum did know was that he needed to get off of the floor somehow, but the knives and barbed wire stuck in his chest and wrapped around his leg had other ideas, and he’d shifted all of six inches before deciding that self-reliance would have to wait just a little longer.

“Higgins?”

Juliet paused, glancing over her shoulder. She’d been pacing ever-widening circles around Magnum’s bedroom, then to the end of the hallway, and on her present lap had decided to go as far as the kitchen so as not to give in to the urge to disperse her nervous energy by folding his laundry. She’d just started down the hall in that direction when she thought she heard her name. What sounded suspiciously like a moan followed, prompting her to take a step back the way she’d come.

“Higgy? You still there?”

The voice was thin and shaky and so unlike Magnum that she was practically through the bathroom door before she knew she’d moved, but it didn’t prepare her for the sight of him sprawled on his side on the rug, jaw clenched in pain, clutching his leg with both hands. “Oh, Thomas,” she breathed in dismay. His chest and torso were so marred with contusions that ‘black and blue’ was hardly an adequate description, and he’d somehow acquired an angry red strip of road rash across his lower abdomen in addition to whatever had happened to his leg.

“It’s not as bad as it looks,” he said breathlessly.

“Try that one again when you’re _not_ collapsed on the floor,” Higgins answered, worry sharpening her tone more than she’d intended. She hurried to grab a clean towel from the shelf and rolled it up, easing it beneath his head as she lowered herself to the floor next to him.

“I was trying to get my ri--” his explanation cut off with a groan and his fingers dug into his leg even harder, heedless of the ugly bruising that mottled most of his lower thigh and knee.

“Shhh, just rest for a moment,” she soothed, reaching to thread her own fingers gently through his damp hair as he struggled to control his ragged breaths. Again she was reminded of a crashed truck of stolen gold, of sitting in the middle of the roadway trying to comfort him as she helplessly watched him fade. Thomas wasn’t shot this time, though, Higgins reminded herself firmly when his eyes slipped closed. He wasn’t unconscious, either, maintaining his iron grip on his thigh even after much of the tension had dissipated from his body, and she continued her ministrations silently, giving him time to regroup.

When he finally did stir, it was with a shudder and a small keening sound that she was certain he wouldn’t have made had he been aware of it. “Magnum?” she questioned softly as he lay still once more. She allowed her hand to come to rest across the top of his head, and the change in sensation seemed to rouse him more than her voice, his half-open dark eyes searching until they found hers.

“Hey,” he whispered.

“Hey yourself. You were out for a few minutes there. Are you feeling any better?”

“As long as I don’t move.”

“Were you injured further when you fell?” she asked, worried by the complete seriousness of his statement.

Magnum shook his head slowly. “Don’t think so.” Then, after a beat, “I almost had it.”

She followed his gaze to where his ring lay on the floor just a few inches away. Shifting position, she picked it up and turned to set it on a low shelf near the sink for safe-keeping.

“Sorry.”

“Magnum, you’re rather banged up. It’s hardly surprising that you’re a bit inflexible just now.”

“No, I’m sorry I couldn’t find a way to fix this. I really believed that that lawyer would come through for you in the end. I should’ve known it was too good to be true.”

The hollow defeat in his tone made her heart clench as much as the topic and she had to look away for a few seconds. “It’s not your responsibility to fix this, Thomas,” she told him, her voice not quite steady.

“You’re my partner. It’s my responsibility to try,” he answered, as if that was a given. For him, it probably was.

Sighing, she squeezed his shoulder gently. “I’ll be all right.”

“Try that one again when your eyes aren’t all red,” he said, forcing a smile, and she knew then that the brightness in his own eyes wasn’t from pain -- at least not the physical sort. The look he was giving her was so tender, in fact, that had the moment been different in proximity or place, she was certain they'd have embraced, maybe even kissed. 

Juliet found herself longing desperately for the former the longer he held her gaze, and entirely unable to process the idea of the latter. She was leaving tomorrow. She had no choice. It was a little late for thoughts of a beginning.

His eyes closed for a few seconds, physical pain reasserting itself in his features, and with an effort Higgins returned her attention to the matter at hand. “Do you think you could lie on your back for a moment, Magnum? I want to check your leg.”

He nodded, but made no attempt to move, and flinched away when she reached to help him. “Does it hurt that much?” she asked with concern, and was relieved when he shook his head no.

“My hands are locked up. I’ve been trying to let go for the last few minutes.”

Higgins sighed again. “You never do anything halfway, do you?”

“Just my laundry,” he joked, then tensed as she slid her fingers carefully beneath his right wrist. “What are you doing?”

“The other half.”

Thomas frowned in confusion. “Wait...is this like the ‘fall down seven times, get up seven times’ argument again? Not doing something halfway means I completed whatever I was doing. That would imply that there’s nothing left for you to _do!_ ” he gasped, eyes going wide as a flash of pain shot through his wrist. His hand magically relaxed, though, and before he could comment further, she was kneading his left forearm and wrist, repeating the process.

“You were saying?” She smiled sweetly at him as she placed his aching left hand on the floor.

“You did that on purpose to distract me,” he accused, carefully flexing his fingers.

Higgins shrugged. “I told you, Magnum, after two years I think I know you, and it seems you just proved me right once again.”

He covered her hand with his for a moment in gratitude before slowly pushing himself onto his back and making a weary gesture that she took to mean _get on with it_. Given the fact that he’d only been limping slightly following his altercation with Reese, broken bones seemed unlikely, but Juliet ran her hands gently along the length of his leg as a precaution before turning her focus to the bruised area above his knee. There was a visible knot about a third of the way up, and the shades of blue and purple coloring his skin seemed to be darkening.

“Are you able to bend your knee at all?”

He made the attempt, but stopped with a grimace just shy of a 90-degree angle. “It was starting to stiffen even before I ended up down here,” he told her.

“It’s swelling quite a lot. Do you have an Ace bandage?”

Magnum waved off the question tiredly. “Ice packs. I’ll be fine.”

“If by fine you mean unable to walk in the morning then you’re correct.”

“That bad?” he asked resignedly, studying the bruise.

She inclined her head, considering. “It’s not quite Richard’s infamous rugby injury, but it should be wrapped and elevated all the same.”

“Sounds like there’s an interesting story there.”

“Hmm...yes, I suppose you could say that,” she said, smiling.

“Care to elaborate?”

“Whilst your knee continues to lose its range of motion?” Juliet raised her eyebrows innocently.

“Might be worth it,” he grinned.

She shook her head, still smiling, and got to her feet. “Don’t be silly, Magnum. I’ll fetch the first aid kit from the main house.”

“No need. Try the closet, lower right side.”

A few minutes later she re-entered the room, eyebrow raised and a large duffel bag in hand. “ _This_ is not a first aid kit. It’s half a chemist’s shop.”

Magnum shrugged. “I like to be prepared.”

“For what, the zombie apocalypse?”

“A zombie apocalypse is not as far-fetched as you might think,” he insisted. “Take neurotoxins, for example, or nanobots. Brain parasites. Even viruses like m--”

“Please don’t say mad cow disease,” Higgins begged him as she worked to apply the compression wrap to his thigh.

He laughed. “Fine, but my point is, it could happen. A scientific mishap here, a genetic mutation there...”

“You’ve put far too much thought into this, Magnum.”

“Like I said, it’s better to be prepared.”

“Not always.”

Before he'd noticed that she'd finished with the wrap, she’d touched a piece of disinfectant-soaked gauze to the six-inch friction burn on his stomach. It smarted far worse than his leg, and Magnum bit his lip, only able to hold back half of the undignified yelp that rose from his throat. He absolutely did _not_ recommend bodysurfing atop a rapidly-braking semi.

“Almost done,” Higgins promised as she set aside the antiseptic, but by the time she’d finished bandaging the wound and pronounced it okay for him to get up, he’d decided he’d rather not. Moving meant more pain and expending energy that he just didn’t have. It also meant goodbye. She’d help him to bed and then return to the main house. He’d fall asleep, probably in seconds, and when he woke up it would be tomorrow and she’d be gone. Magnum felt her squeeze his hand, and found his own troubled thoughts reflected in her expression, along with a fair measure of sympathy, as she wordlessly slipped an arm behind his shoulders to assist him in rising.

Walking didn’t turn out to be quite the ordeal he’d expected, and Higgins parked him on the edge of his bed while she went to retrieve ice and extra pillows for his leg. While she was gone, Thomas did his best not to fall asleep where he sat and tried to decide what to say to her in parting. “Are you all right?” hadn’t exactly been part of the plan, but the words were automatic when he looked up and saw her in the doorway, struggling with an armful of pillows and cold packs, a pained expression on her face.

“Fine, Magnum,” she dismissed, turning to set the items amidst the laundry piled on the chair.

His eyes widened in alarm. A dark stain marred her tank top at mid-back and was slowly spreading downward. “Higgy, you're bleeding.”

“What?” There was genuine surprise in her voice, but her hand immediately snaked around to her back, easily locating the site of the blood. He saw her wince, and she sighed. “The dressing must have come loose.”

“Were you hit at Cynthia Lloyd’s house?” he asked worriedly, thinking back to the gunfire earlier that day. How had he not noticed she was injured? He’d left Cynthia’s in a hurry to go after Reese, but Higgins had seemed fine then. Ditto for when she’d come speeding up in the Ferrari...

“It’s unrelated,” she said, interrupting his thoughts, and looked at him a bit sheepishly. “Remember the stockbroker whose case we decided to turn down earlier this week?”

Magnum nodded. “I think your exact words were ‘over my dead body’.”

“Well, I may have forgotten to call him back the day we talked. I may also have had a bout of insomnia the night before last, conducted some research, and solved the case.”

“I don’t understand...I thought you didn’t trust that guy.”

“I didn’t -- I _don’t_ \-- but when I discovered which one of Mr. Barnes’ clients was blackmailing him, I figured I might as well follow through. I was going to surprise you with the check tomorrow. Anyway, while I was poking around at the client’s firm yesterday, double-checking my theory, I was quite rudely shoved against a metal shelving unit that had some rather sharp edges. All of the twisting ‘round I did driving this afternoon must have aggravated matters.”

“Want me to take a look?”

She shook her head. “It’s nothing, Magnum. I’ll get myself patched up after you’re settled.”

“I’m not going to be able to sleep if I’m imagining you alone in the main house, bleeding out.”

“I’m hardly _bleeding out_ ,” she scoffed, but she knew that the dressing hadn’t merely come loose, either. She’d felt the pain worsen the moment she’d kicked the Ferrari into reverse and thrown her arm across the back of the passenger seat. Now, she could feel the blood. It was slowly oozing down her back, having finally overwhelmed the thick bandage she’d applied, and was soaking into the waistband of her trousers. Not relishing the thought of repeating the yoga routine that had been necessary to bandage the wound in the first place, though, she let out a sigh and turned so she was standing with her back to Magnum. Sliding up the hem of her shirt, she hissed involuntarily as it caught on a loose piece of tape and pulled sharply at the broken skin beneath.

“Careful,” he cautioned, helping to lift the fabric away from her skin and letting out a low whistle as he folded back the edge of the dressing. Twin four-inch lacerations, one an inch above the other, seeped freely. The skin around them that wasn’t bloodied looked bruised and inflamed. “This isn’t nothing, Higgy. Can you hand me the kit?”

She obliged and he quickly tore open a package of fresh gauze, using it to apply pressure to the wounds. After a couple of minutes he eased off, but more blood welled up and so he pressed a bit harder, repeating the process with much the same result. “I think you need stitches,” he said seriously, pressing down a third time and grimacing when the effort made his ribs twinge and caused Higgins to flinch.

She shook her head. “It took a while to stop yesterday, too.”

“I’m not surprised, but the top one looks like it could be infected.”

“Bloody wonderful.”

“Let me get a new dressing on here and I’ll drive you over to the ER.”

Higgins actually laughed. “I _literally_ picked you up off the floor ten minutes ago, Magnum, and _I’m_ supposed to go to the hospital?”

“I’m not getting on a 24-hour flight in the morning,” he reminded gently.

Juliet huffed out a frustrated sigh. “Point taken, but you’ve got plenty of supplies right here. Can’t you just…?”

He shrugged. “Not if I can’t get the bleeding stopped, and this is definitely going to scar if you don’t get it stitch--”

“I don’t care!” she snapped, and although she quickly reined herself back in, barely-concealed emotion caused her voice to crack ever so slightly as she joked, “It’s not as though there’s much call for bathing suits in London, anyway.”

“Hey. You’re going to be right back here before you know it,” Magnum said, seeing through her feeble attempt at humor, and when he clasped her arm softly in reassurance it was all Juliet could do to not wrench herself away from him and run. Her eyes closed in despair. She’d gotten too close. It didn’t matter that they’d never crossed any lines because she suddenly realized that she'd crossed every damned one of them in her mind, and she couldn’t stand to find out now whether Thomas had done the same, whether that look of longing she’d thought she’d seen in his eyes a few minutes ago was real or imagined. Either way, the answer would break her. Maybe the question already had.

Her feet seemed to be glued to the floor, and she was unable to move or say anything. After a time Thomas released her arm and she heard the crinkle of plastic as he tore open another package and resumed his work, his left hand coming to rest on her waist to balance out the force his right was exerting against her lacerated skin. Her breathing accelerated with both the pain and his closeness and she desperately willed it to slow down, hoping Thomas didn’t notice what a mess she’d become, and _really_ hoping he didn’t know why. A few more minutes passed, then there was a sudden exclamation of triumph behind her, and when Magnum announced that the bleeding had stopped, she let her shoulders dip a little in relief.

Finally. She needed to go, to put some distance between them and take the night to collect herself. Then, maybe, just maybe, she’d be able to say goodbye to him tomorrow without making a complete arse of herself. Stepping away from him the instant he’d completed his task, she muttered a quick thank you in the direction of her shoes before straightening her top and heading for the door.

“Higgy, wait.”

Juliet spun back around, the look of question on her face immediately turning into one of remorse when her eyes landed on him. It seemed she was destined to make an arse of herself no matter what. She’d actually been about to walk out and leave him sitting there with the ice and pillows he needed just out of his reach. “I -- I’m so sorry, Magnum. I didn’t think.” Hurrying back, she picked up one of the pillows from the chair and startled slightly when he clasped her elbow.

“Slow down. That’s not why I stopped you,” Magnum said, taking the pillow from her hands and then capturing them with his own.

“It’s not?”

He smiled at her, but his expression was filled with worry, and she inclined her head in askance. “The hemostatic dressing worked to stop the bleeding,” he explained, “but you can’t leave it on long-term. If you’re not going to get those cuts looked at tonight, I should clean and re-bandage them.”

“Oh, right. Of course.” She started to turn back around so he could do so, but the room turned with her and she stopped abruptly, grabbing his hand again to keep her balance.

“Higgins?”

“I...Magnum…” She risked a glance in his direction, and suddenly felt like her head was going to float right off of her shoulders. Wavering where she stood, she was on the verge of falling when both of his hands firmly caught her waist.

“I’ve got you, girl. I’ve got you,” he murmured, easing her a step closer. “Sit with me for a minute, okay? Nice and slow.”

She let him guide her onto the edge of the bed next to him, too dizzy to care that when she stopped moving she was nestled against his side with his arm around her shoulders. “Magnum,” she mumbled again anxiously, and wondered why her voice sounded so shaky and why his name was the only word she could seem to form.

“You’re all right,” he said softly, stroking her shoulder gently with his thumb as his other hand found her wrist. A few moments later she felt him shift position and heard a quiet grunt of discomfort before something cold was pressed into her hand. “Here, drink this. I think you’ve lost more blood than you realize.”

Higgins raised the bottle to her lips automatically, sipping the cool water for a moment before frowning. “This was supposed to be for you,” she said, recalling the three bottles of water and two pain pills she’d set on his nightstand while he was in the shower.

Magnum chuckled. “I think I can spare one if it means you not passing out. Thanks for the meds, by the way.”

“You actually took them?”

“Hey, don’t sound so surprised!”

“Well, you’re not exactly a model patient.”

“Look who’s talking.”

“Mmm, touché.”

“How are you doing?” he asked after she’d finished the water, and it took her a second or two to realize that her eyes were closed and her head was resting on his shoulder.

“A small bit better, thanks,” she said, straightening slowly.

“Think you could manage a shower here?”

Juliet blinked at the unexpected question, and shifted away from Magnum, fixing him with a narrow-eyed look of suspicion. “Why? What exactly are you suggesting?”

“That the water will help soak the dressing loose so you won’t start bleeding again when I change it, and that you’re still looking unsteady enough that I’d feel better knowing you’re safe here in the meantime.”

Higgins wasn’t sure what sort of response she’d been expecting -- an immature joke, perhaps, as that would have been par for the course -- but Thomas had switched things up with complete honesty, and she was touched by his protectiveness. It also made her need for escape that much stronger. “Magnum, I’m fine. Really. Let’s just get your leg taken care of and --”

“Juliet,” he interrupted, and with raised eyebrows angled his head briefly in the direction of the bathroom.

It very clearly was not a request, and if it hadn’t been for the warm concern in his eyes she’d have taken him to task for it. As it was, she shot him a look of warning as she carefully got to her feet and collected an ice pack and two pillows from the chair. Returning, she placed them in his lap. “Those are my terms. Are we in accord?”

They were, but lying down didn’t mean that Magnum had any intention of letting himself fall asleep and he kept his fatigue at bay by texting a string of memes to Rick, hoping to cheer the other man up even as he worriedly keyed in on every unusual sound that came from the bathroom during the next twenty minutes. When Higgins finally emerged in a cloud of steam, it did little to allay his concern. Her color hadn’t improved much and he could tell she was in pain from the awkward way she was toweling her hair without lifting her arms. Setting his phone aside, Thomas carefully disengaged his leg from the stack of pillows it was resting on and managed to stifle a groan as his ribs protested his sitting up. He was less successful in stifling his expression, though, if Juliet’s was any indication.

“We’re quite the pair, aren’t we?” she said with a wry smile.

Magnum huffed out a laugh. “A pair of accidents waiting to happen, maybe. Here,” he said, handing her a packet of pain medication and another bottle of water.

“Cheers,” she raised the water tiredly in a toast before downing the tablets. “You know, I never considered myself particularly accident-prone before meeting you.”

“Well, you can’t really blame me for this one,” he pointed out. “I agreed we shouldn’t take the case.”

“I’m not,” Higgins said, smiling a little as she retook her seat next to him. “It’s just...while there is a certain component of danger to what we do, I must admit there’s been an element of fun to it as well...so much so that I fear the prospect of England is shaping up to be quite dull,” she finished quietly.

“What do you mean? I thought you were still going to help me out with laptopping,” Magnum said in mock confusion, and if she swatted his arm lightly and snorted with laughter it was no less of a response than he might’ve hoped. “I’m going to come visit, too,” he went on as he nudged her to turn sideways so he could see to her back, “and with my luck, I’ll run into a former client’s angry ex on the flight who will be happy to chase us all over London for our entertainment.”

“Hmmm. No doubt we’ll run afoul of MI-6 in the process, then, ruffle a few feathers, set off an international incident...”

“And your government will be so annoyed that they’ll green-light your visa just to get rid of us.”

“So, next week then?” She said brightly.

“Count on it,” Magnum replied, smiling as he finished cleaning the lacerations and proceeded to close them as best he could using steri-strips. Stitches would have been preferable, but with luck the bandages would hold well enough to prevent further bleeding if not scarring. He covered the area with a layer of thick gauze and then lowered the hem of her borrowed t-shirt back into place over the too-large shorts he’d also lent her. Resting his hands on her shoulders, the tenuous levity of the past few minutes failed him and he let out a shaky breath before telling her, “You’re good to go.”

Higgins nodded without looking at him and slowly got to her feet. “I suppose I should be getting on. Thank you, Thomas. I’ll see you in the morning?”

“You could stay,” he blurted in response, and Juliet’s head whipped around so fast that it nearly gave her vertigo all over again. “Please?”

A reply of decline was already on her lips, but gone was the stern Navy SEAL from moments ago who had ordered her into the shower with scarcely more than a look. Gone was the cocky PI who fought murderous ex-cons on the roofs of semi trailers. There was only her friend, looking exhausted and vulnerable and, damn it all, so bloody _sad_ , that her words evaporated with the rest of the moisture in her throat, the full weight of her own sadness crashed in, and a tear slipped down her cheek as she nodded. Once again she helped him to lie down, replacing his spent ice pack with a fresh one before climbing into bed next to him. Their fingers intertwined within seconds, locking together in the type of grip only imminent separation could produce. Despite his injuries, and with the utmost care for hers, Thomas slowly drew her closer until she was lying on her side, pressed against his, her head resting on his shoulder. They said little, both just wanting to lose themselves in a few last moments of closeness with the other before life forced them on their separate ways.


	2. Chapter 2

Magnum awoke ten minutes before six the following morning and lay staring at the empty space that Higgins had recently occupied until his alarm went off. He had a pounding headache emanating from the gash over his eye and the rest of his body was sore enough that he should’ve taken the hint and gone back to sleep. Unfortunately, his mind was already spinning fast enough that he couldn’t, and twenty minutes later he was limping down the sand to the surf ski.

He desperately needed the calming forces of the gradually-warming sun on his skin and the sound of the waves to convince himself that things were going to work out, and by the time he’d paddled out as far as he’d deemed safe to go in his present condition, the ocean had worked enough of its magic that he almost hadn’t cared how much it was going to suck paddling back. That was, not until TC’s chopper passed overhead and he realized with a glance at his watch that he was late. Sighing in resignation, Magnum tried to ignore the worsening ache in his ribs and forced himself to increase his pace.

As he neared the beach, he spotted Higgins walking down to meet him. The tide caught the stern, easily carrying him the rest of the way in, and experience allowed him to disembark smoothly in the shallows, but he was glad he had to bend forward a little to drag the surf ski ashore. It not only hid from her his grimace of pain at the too-strenuous motion but gave him a moment to steel himself for the conversation to come. “Looks like Robin made it,” he managed to comment with a neutral expression as Higgins reached him.

She nodded. “He’s up at the house.”

Magnum returned the nod, then looked away as emotion threatened to overwhelm him. He wasn’t ready for this. The feel of her asleep in his arms stole through his memory and made him wish it was still last night. Even more, he wished that he’d called and asked her to breakfast instead of avoiding the issue of her departure yet again by going out on the surf ski. But it wasn’t, and he hadn’t. “So I guess this is it.”

She replied, but part of it went unheard. His badly bruised ribs and leg shared his wish that he hadn’t just paddled several miles, and were beginning to inform him of it. Loudly. Somehow, he endured the stabbing pain in his side without flinching and carefully shifted his weight to his right leg to relieve the throbbing in his left, only then catching the tail end of her words.

“...turns out I don’t have to leave after all.”

As he played them back in his mind and realized their implication, Magnum experienced a surge of hope that drowned out a little of the pain. “What do you mean?”

Higgins went on to explain the solution that Robin and the lawyer had concocted, and while Thomas felt enough awkwardness at the prospect of her being his boss to know that he’d definitely participated in the conversation, he really didn’t register much of what was said after that as he limped back up the beach next to her. He was too busy alternating between elation that she was staying and worry over the very real possibility that he might pass out. His body was begging him in no uncertain terms to _stop moving_.

Higgins said something in jest regarding the Ferrari, he managed to object on autopilot, and then she was suddenly five paces ahead of him on the path. Luckily, it only took her six to realize it, and she was quickly back beside him, holding onto his elbow while he tried to catch his breath. “You overdid it out there.”

“Yep,” he agreed and stood still for several seconds longer until the ground felt more stable under his feet. Even then, he was unable to suppress a pained grunt as he was forced to put weight on his bad leg to get himself moving again.

“Did you even consider using the crutches I left for you?” Juliet asked, the exasperation in her tone belied by the careful grip she maintained on his arm to help him hobble along.

“I tried. They hurt my ribs too much,” he admitted sheepishly.

“Perhaps that might have served as a clue to move less in general?”

“Yep,” he said again with a sigh, and looked so crestfallen at the sight of the long incline that lay between them and the house that she refrained from saying anything further and just offered him her shoulder for support as they started up.

Despite pausing four times along the way, Magnum’s strength was all but gone by the time they reached their destination. He started to turn toward the main house, but Juliet stopped him with a gentle, “Nope,” and tugged him in the opposite direction.

“Robin’s waiting,” Magnum argued tiredly, although he sounded a little uncertain of what that even meant and made no attempt to turn back.

“Robin’s also aware that we just finished a rough case. I’ll inform him and the others that you’re taking the morning to rest, and we’ll all stop by for a late lunch.”

It seemed to Magnum that Higgins had no sooner finished speaking than he was lying on the sofa in the guest house with a throw blanket draped over him. A moment later, he heard familiar voices in the kitchen, smelled barbecue wafting in from the lanai. He blinked, and Robin was nudging his shoulder, apologizing for waking him, and asking if he wanted to eat. Somehow, his affirmative response translated not into a plate of pulled pork, but a protein bar, some fruit, and a bottle of water that he consumed in a daze without ever leaving the sofa. TC walked by, traded him some pain medication for his empty plate, and then encouraged him to go back to sleep as the others gathered in the living room with their own food. He easily drifted off to the sound of Rick and Juliet laughing over something Kumu had said, and when he finally woke up the sun was low in the sky and the house was quiet.

Between showering and raiding the leftover barbecue that had kindly been stashed in his fridge, Magnum grew curious enough as to the others’ whereabouts to pull up Find My Friends on his phone. Not surprisingly, they were over at La Mariana -- apart from Higgins, who appeared to be in the main house. Of all of them, she should have been the one out celebrating. He’d even caught a few snatches of conversation that afternoon regarding Rick’s plans for said shindig. Then again, it was only a little after eight. Maybe she was waiting so they could ride over together?

Wolfing down the rest of his food, Magnum deposited his dishes in the sink and headed for the main house. The study was dark, so he limped along the path a little further and let himself in through the kitchen door. There he found a pot of water boiling on the stove and a pack of spaghetti set out next to it. Juliet was perched on a barstool at the counter, headphones on, either asleep or fully-absorbed in her music.

“Higgins!” he called out, then shook his head with a smile, not expecting an answer. More than once he’d wasted time trying to shout over the noise-cancellation feature, and he’d devised a better way. Her phone was on the counter in front of her and he picked it up to hit the pause button, only to realize that nothing was actually playing. “Higgins!” he said again at closer range.

This time her eyelids fluttered, and she looked around groggily for a moment before spotting him. “Oh, Magnum. You’re awake,” she said, fumbling to remove the headphones.

“That makes one of us,” he teased.

An odd expression crossed her features and she shifted in her chair. “Excuse me for a moment,” she said, and before he could respond she was disappearing from the room.

Magnum looked on in curiosity for a few seconds, then shrugged and went over to the stove, stirring pasta into the forgotten kettle before all of the water could boil away. He was watching the spaghetti swirl like agitated snakes in the roiling water when the clicking of heels on the tiled floor alerted him to her return. “Hey Higgy, is two servings of pasta enough or were you planning on making more?”

Thomas glanced over his shoulder in time to see her slide gingerly back into her seat, and did a double-take at her pallor. The dark circles underscoring her eyes were suddenly much starker, and she was shivering and pulling her sweater more tightly around herself. “Don’t take this the wrong way, Juliet, but you look awful.”

She grimaced. “Yes, well, it seems as though you were right.”

“About what?”

“Those cuts on my back are quite infected.”

She shivered again, and Magnum frowned, reaching to place his hand against her forehead without thinking. The heat coming from her skin was expected. Her leaning into his touch instead of attempting to break his wrist was not. “You need to see a doctor,” he said with concern, gently smoothing aside a few of her curls.

“I just came from there, actually. Twenty-two st-stitches, a shot of antibiotics, and a s-script for m-m-more,” she said, nodding at the prescription bottle at the other end of the counter.

Thomas picked it up and glanced at the label, then at her. “Strong stuff.”

“Thus the food. Although I doubt I’ve a prayer of k-keeping any of it down,” she muttered, swallowing thickly and closing her eyes.

Her abrupt exit minutes before suddenly made sense, and Magnum rubbed slow circles on her upper back in sympathy. “Have you taken anything for the fever?”

She shook her head, and he walked back over to the cabinets, searching until he found the right one. Returning with two Tylenol and glass of water, he set them in front of her. “Those first, then why don’t you go relax, maybe turn on a movie?” he suggested. “I’ll put the spaghetti in the fridge and fix you something a little lighter.”

Juliet swallowed the pills with a sip of water barely large enough to avoid choking, not bothering to tell him that they didn’t stand much more of a chance than the food. She’d been varying degrees of nauseous since about ten minutes after the nurse at the urgent care had administered the shot, so she gladly accepted the short reprieve Thomas was offering, murmuring her thanks and squeezing his hand as she headed for the living room.

Her respite passed by all too quickly. Juliet had curled onto the sofa, wrapping a blanket around herself in a desperate attempt to quell the chills wracking her body, and was barely ten minutes into the movie when Magnum reappeared carrying a tray. Her stomach flipped the instant she detected the tiniest of food-like smells, and she kept her eyes steadfastly on the TV as he placed the tray on the coffee table and settled into the corner of the sofa next to her. 

Ignoring the situation gained her about five more minutes before he reached for a bag of chips for himself and pointedly held out a saltine. With a soft sigh, she freed one hand from the blanket and accepted it, taking a small bite. Fifteen minutes and three saltines later, a small bowl of her favorite store-bought chicken noodle soup was placed in her hands. It didn’t taste good, but it stayed where she put it, and her effort was rewarded when Magnum looped an arm around her shoulders and pulled her still-trembling body in close. That turned out to be somewhat of a bribe -- he handed her the dreaded antibiotics as soon as she was settled against him -- but his warmth was ultimately worth it. The faint, clean smell of his soap combined with the trace of laundry detergent from his t-shirt even seemed to settle her stomach a little more, and she faded out quickly as her shivering finally subsided.

The end credits of _Sweet Home Alabama_ and a hand squeezing her shoulder brought her back to partial awareness, but recent memories of pain and being sick made her hesitant to emerge from the cocoon of warmth that currently surrounded her and she sank back into it with a contented sigh, even as part of her cocoon squirmed again and groaned. “Higgy, come on, it’s late and I literally can’t move.”

“Then stay, Magnum,” she mumbled.

Thomas looked down at his partner, lying peacefully halfway on top of him, her arm wrapped snug around his waist, and wanted nothing more. Unfortunately, he’d just spent all day sleeping on his own sofa. From the multitude of aches he was presently experiencing, his still-healing body wasn’t going to tolerate an entire night on hers. He said as much.

“I do have a bed, you know.”

“Oh, really?”

“Of course. Why wouldn’t I?”

Magnum chuckled at her sleepy, confused tone and stroked her hair affectionately. “No reason, but I found out today that I have a new boss, and I’m worried she might not approve of this idea once she’s feeling better.”

“I suppose that’s a risk you’ll have to take,” Juliet replied. “If you leave at this hour the lads will think you’re an intruder for sure. There’s no way you’ll outrun them on that leg of yours, and I have it on good authority that your boss does not feel like...hiring a new...security...consultant...” she trailed off, relaxing further against him as her breathing evened out into sleep.

“Uh, Higgins?”


End file.
